


Knots

by orphan_account



Category: Cinderella 2015
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:45:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4287753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Could you undo this knot?" She asked, tugging at a scramble of laces at the front of her chemise that had once been a delicate bow. Both of them knew full well, however, that the second the knot loosened the thing would fall right of her shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knots

Kit whistled a light, airy tune as he made his way to the Queens Chambers that resided in the complex of the Royal Apartments, spirits bright. But three minutes ago he had been ensnared by the last meeting he was to attend as an unmarried man, though it had failed to dampen his spirits, and now he was finally free, making his way to Ella's rooms, in hopes of catching a moment with her before dinner. Of course, he wasn't sure of what a moment alone might entail.

It was only a day, a single day, until they were bound forevermore and neither could conceal their eagerness. He wanted nothing more than to be at her side for the rest of his life, to belong to her and have all recognise it as a fact. And, yes, he would allow that there were certain desires that both felt were becoming overwhelming. It was odd, the closer they were to reaching the appropriate time, the more urgent their feelings became. A fortnight ago the pair had been terrified they might not be able to maintain restraint, had even questioned the need to keep propriety in order.

Kit knew it was ungentlemanly of him to focus purely on the memory of his betrothed's lips on his, but he couldn't help it, his thoughts drifting to the way her mouth had tasted and the sensation of her fingertips brushing against his bare chest... They had gotten very, very careless the last time they were alone together (sitting in the drawing room after the seventh state dinner they had attended as a couple). Perhaps this hastened his steps, nodding politely to statue like guards as he passed - more in an attempt to remind himself to keep decorum than anything else - , weaving through the passageways. The main indoor entrance to the Left Wing was crowned with the country's coat of arms, and so it was very easy to mark his progress as he passed the threshold (the doors were kept pulled to the side in the day and were closed when the lights were extinguished) and entered into the state rooms. 

They were desolate, the majority of courtiers situated in the Right Wing, save for the Grand Duke's rooms and the Captain of Guard's (though they were allocated for his family more than the man who held the position). The previous holder of the first mentioned office - the thought of the slippery political manipulator still brought a frown to the young kings face, but it always passed with other things (such as Ella) to think of - lacked in a wife or children, so that now the rooms were full with strange new life. The newly promoted Captain of the Guard was, like his predecessor, a husband and father, which meant there was an awful lot of children, not that Kit or Ella minded. Both, in fact, proved to be polite and attentive when they conversed with the abundant small beings. 

Squeals of laughter and the sound of running feet, despite the fact no proper child should romp as such, echoed through the halls and brought an even bigger smile to Kit's face as he entered the Royal Apartments (closed doors, royal crest above and lacking in signs of life). Following the vases of flowers that had sprung up about the once empty Queens Chambers, the king found himself at his destination. An obliging handmaiden, exiting the apartments just as he entered, promptly informed him of Ella's location (bedchamber).

The rooms were spacious, with lavish and floral decor and a sense of longing, as though the walls missed the life that they had once enjoyed. Kit quite suddenly felt compelled to bring life back into the place, remove the slight tinge of disuse and gloom that huddled in the corners and perhaps get rid of the curious drapes that decorated the windows. In most examples he had found his mother to of had polished taste, but certainly not in the curtains in the antechamber just outside of the bedchamber. For one it didn't match the upholstery at all. 

Kit ended up glaring at the curtains for a fraction of a second before returning to his topic of thought; making the Queens Chambers more loved. At least it didn't have that old musty smell, like it used to. That was the (former) Grand Duke's second order of business following his fathers death, to air out the Queens Chambers, before even the funeral was arranged. Kit, having been somewhat occupied with funeral arrangements and generally mourning, had not been made aware of this for a while, as most of the servants assumed the Grand Duke was either acting out the new king's orders or preparing for what he clearly thought imminent. No one had thought to question the poor taste in such timing, until after the revelation of the Grand Duke's character, but suddenly half the staff and more than half the courtiers had distrusted him. 

Not really thinking at all, Kit opened - without knocking - the door to Ella's chamber and proceeded to receive the shock of his life (that, if he was honest, was decidedly pleasant).  
_

Ella had already endured numerous fittings for her wedding dress, had become almost accustomed to standing on a stool and have needles poked into you once every hour or two for half a day, but her dress was safely hidden away. One day to go, she had smiled when she woke that morning. Was it girlish and childlike to admit she had counted the days for two months? Two long, dreadfully extended months. It was not her wedding dress she was now being fitted for, it was her coronation dress, and she could not describe how marvellous the feeling of a dress being constructed around her, and how it was to know she was to wear it a married woman next.

Only the best for a queen, she had concluded, upon seeing the fabric a month prior. It was a golden yellow, handwoven and embroidered with threaded gold, feeling like a flowing river to touch. Now, she was surrounded by the material and tried to pretend that she had not been standing in her undergarments before what may have been twenty maids, not that Ella was terribly shy (anymore), minutes previously. It wasn't as though those particular items of clothing actually helped in concealing her body, either. As a gown was being made for the important occasion every last detail had been attended to, and that seemed to include a thin, gossamer like fabric acting as a chemise (that bared most of her back, anyway) and a pristine white padded corset, complimented with embroidery of golden leaves and scrolls. 

She had nodded and smiled at every instruction Prudence, the Royal Housekeeper, gave and tried her best to pay attention to the conversation, but all she could focus on was Kit, even though he was not present. The japes the maids made were not distracting her from the subject, either. Not a single sentence strayed from the young king, following an unfortunate query from a younger maid as to why Her Ladyship (soon Her Majesty) was to wear such undergarments lacking in sensibility. Goodness, the girl (Ella heard her name was Anha) regretted making any such remark now! The assembly had burst into laughter, even gaining a restrained smile from Prudence, and the answers made them all blush, Ella most of all. 

Ella was glad none knew how hectically close she and Kit had come to.. It was a blur of movement, in her memory, wet kisses exchanged and roaming hands finding areas of each other that were best left unexplored until the wedding night. That morning her neck and shoulders had been covered in red marks, and her handmaids had given her knowing glances and amused looks that made her blush violently as they applied assorted creams to try hide the blemishes. 

When, at last, she had been helped down off the stool and the patterns and pins packed away, Ella had sighed with relief, the maids removing the first few layers as carefully as they could manage. Desiring quiet before dinner, another state affair that was to be her last as an unmarried woman, Ella had thanked the Seamstress, her ladies in waiting and the attendants, insisting she could ready for dinner herself. She had paused for a moment, savouring the silence gifted to her, before setting to work on the petticoats and corset. 

Everything she wore was so fine now, and it took Ella longer than it should have to change, gently undoing the ties and laces and admiring the perfect materials, soaking it all in. Three months ago, Ella possessed one dress. She owned a lot more, but what she had was in her old chests, tucked in corners of her stepsisters (and formally her own) room and she had been barred from them. It was a lucky thing she had worn her favourite dress the day she was sent to the attic. Four months ago, Ella had been half in a dream, not knowing whether or not she had gone to a ball or if it was a figment of her imagination, and felt so very sorry for her Kit in his time of grief and loss. Five months ago, Ella had lost hope that goodness existed in the world, and now to look at her.... She was a queen, and more importantly, someone who openly loved and was loved in return. 

After gratefully removing her corset, and down to the last petticoat before her chemise, Ella failed to hear approaching footsteps, or the slight hum of a content man's whistle. And, just as her petticoat fell to pool around her feet, the door opened and a maid did not enter, only the head of a disgruntled gentleman, before he made a strangled outcry of embarrassment and, while his face invented a shade of red, slammed the door shut, all the while stammering about how very sorry he was. All Ella could do was laugh, hurriedly pulling up her petticoat to conceal as much of herself as she could.  
After safely retreating behind a modesty screen, Ella called out for Kit to enter and he listened almost reluctantly. 

"Fully clothed?" He questioned hesitantly, pushing the door open, but not wide enough for him to enter or see anything. 

"No, but hidden." Ella giggled, and Kit pushed the door wider open. "What? Are you scared Mister Kit?" He was only just poking his head in, eyes intent on the ceiling, and blanched at the suggestion of fear. 

"Not at all." Why was he still here? He asked himself. It was inappropriate, and he really should never have come anyway. The only thing he feared about Ella was, other than losing her, the lack of self control he could exert with her so close. He didn't trust himself near her, nor should he. She was the most beautiful woman in the world, surely, and if the split second of sight he had been afforded was anything to go by, her face was just the beginning of her outward charms. Sure, she was wearing a chemise, but it was a flimsy thing she might as well have gone without. Please understand, thinking of Ella without the chemise only made things worse, but now that image was in his head and wasn't entirely willing to get rid of it. 

"Kit, just come in!" She urged, amused at his reaction even further by the alarmed look he sent her. 

"In a moment." He stalled, determined to remain behind the door until certain things might be controlled. 

"I do confess I think you fear me and my feminine wiles." She was very much toying with him now, and had he not been so beguiled by her he would have been irritated. 

"In a moment." He repeated, steadfast. He began to reflect on how impractical tight breeches actually were, and how dangerous they were for such circumstances. He was beginning to question the very sense of trousers - really, dresses (which concealed EVERYTHING) were so much more intelligent a choice - when he focused very hard on a small dot across the room - a blotch of paint from years back - that might have been mistaken, faraway, as a bee. Relieved, he entered the chamber and saw a grinning face half concealed behind a screen watching him with suspicious eyes.

"What were you thinking of, Mister Kit, that caused you to beg a moment?" She challenged, and he wasn't sure whether or not she curious or smug. Her smile made it seem as though she suspected and that made him more embarrassed than before. 

"Sorry." He apologised, hoping it to be the end of the conversation. "You look beautiful." He continued to compliment, before clarifying with a stutter that he meant that her hair was arranged in a pretty way and that was all. Why had he failed to remember she would be trying on the coronation gown? 

"Nothing to forgive, and thank you." Ella smiled encouragingly, twirling about to show off the bundle of curls at the back of her head. "They think they ought to style it like this for the day, what do you think?" Kit only nodded in agreement, but that was enough. "Kit." She began anew, a playful glint in her eyes. "Might you be willing to help me with something?" 

"Of course!" He laughed, not knowing where she was going with the request. "Name it!" He would do anything for her, and she would do anything for him, and they both knew that. He wasn't really sure what she was even thinking, until she stepped out from behind the screen and he had to drag his eyes to the ceiling again, thinking about unpleasant spiders and bees and just generally insects he should take a care to avoid. Still, he was unconsciously returning his gaze to her and his efforts proved fruitless. 

"Could you undo this knot?" She asked, tugging at a scramble of laces at the front of her chemise that had once been a delicate bow. Both of them knew full well, however, that the second the knot loosened the thing would fall right of her shoulders. Kit was trying to not follow her movements, trying to not drink in everything about the glorious being moving towards him. He gave in, however, the second she indicated near her breasts and resolved to look, but not participate in anything. 

Ella didn't know what she was thinking, she really shouldn't have done anything. Proper ladies didn't do these things, and Kit needed a proper wife. Then again, a proper lady was moderately dead as far as emotions went and did as she was bade, not questioning what was done. All Ella knew in the moment she stepped out from behind the screen was that her body had hummed with a new sort of current at Kit's fleeting admiration of her body when he first opened the door. When he processed what was happening he had closed the door, of course, but for an instant his expression was that of pure and utter lust and Ella loved the way her emotions were thrilling through her now.

The chemise didn't leave anything to the imagination, and he could see everything beneath it, from the swell of her breast to the curve of her hip and the smooth skin on her thigh. And Kit was staring now, trying to see everything all at once as Ella took more steps towards him, until his hands were directly in front of the knot she had mentioned. His eyes met hers, questioning. 

"Ella.." He began, fighting back the urges his mind was conjuring up. He need to feel her, need to touch her, need to kiss every single inch of skin on her. If she was willing, then damn tradition and propriety. They were to be man and wife tomorrow, less than a day away, surely a few hours difference didn't matter? 

"Kit." Her voice was thick with blatant longing, and without any reservations Kit claimed her lips, her hands busying themselves with his jacket and underlying shirt as he pressed her closer into him. Tugging at the garment, Ella succeeded in finding hot skin beneath her fingertips and shivered at the feel of her lower back being caressed by familiar hands, and her movements became even more urgent as she opened her mouth to him. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she threw her arms around his neck, knees buckling underneath his kiss as he tightened his grip on her waist.

Kit did't both to restrain the wish to let his hands wander, knowing it futile, and he didn't put distance between their two interlocking bodies, despite the knowledge that Ella could probably feel his attraction to her. Yesterday, that had bothered him (even though Ella had only giggled and refused to acknowledge it), but now he didn't care at all. She needed to know how he felt about her, needed to know that the only thing he ever wanted in this world was to make love to her, to kiss away all her cares, for the rest of their lives. And, for some obscure reason, that was also what she wanted. 

She was so painfully aware of his hands on her thighs, edging her chemise higher as he broke the kiss, setting his mouth to nipping and sucking at her neck, leaving her gasping for air. Her own hands were also occupied, gently brushing against the the bulge in his breeches. In reaction, he groaned against her collarbone, which encouraged her to heighten the activities to skin on skin. He almost collapsed into her, out of breath as he proceeded to pick her up in his arms, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. Her heart was beating faster than it ever had, as though she was running and running and running, and her lungs could not find enough air to sustain her, oxygen so feeble compared to the demands of her body. 

"I love you." He sighed into her ear, securing his hold on her the small of her back and the top of her thigh. "I love you, I love you, I love you." Hardly an imaginative thing to repeat, but he never wanted to say anything else ever again. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her. Resting his forehead against hers, he looked down at her lips, and then to the little knot at her chest, catching sight of something pink through the fabric. Something swelled against Ella's parted legs, pressing against the material and she whimpered, readjusting her grip around his waist. 

He ran to the bed, positively ran, and laid her down while lathering kisses on her mouth, her cheek, her ear, her neck. Every inch of skin he could reach, hands caressing her hair as she tried to remove his breeches without the benefit of her eyes, which were on the ceiling and growing hazier as Kit's actions heated. She arched her back, pressing against his hips, and he took her meaning at once, laughing against her skin. 

"How about that knot?" He chuckled and she released a breathy giggle too as he pulled her up to sit on his thighs, cupping her breasts as he worked at the tie. He had thought he was out of breath before, but when the cloth slid off her shoulders and down her slim body, resting around her hips as she shuddered, in anticipation, fear or cold he couldn't tell, he was stunned. Gorgeous, unearthly physical perfection was before him. Her shoulder had silverly scars from what he refused to wonder, but her bruises had healed and her once unhealthy skin had such a glow. He swore to himself he would dedicate himself to kissing those scars, the hurts that would never fully heal, and lavishing her with just as much affection as she deserved. 

"Well?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow as their eyes met. She had felt him staring, nervous as to what he thought. She knew she had a slimmer body than many, but that also meant she had smaller... appendages? Was that a polite term to use? Well, it's hardly polite to discuss such things anyway. Would she be enough?

"Well?" His voice deepened, returning his eyes to the mounds of her breasts, peeked by the pink he had caught a glimpse of beforehand. She was a goddess, a living and breathing ethereal spirit sent to him by some unknown source for an unknown purpose. How could she doubt herself, ever? "Ella.." He forced his lips on hers, in an attempt to reassure her and absorb her, entering her mouth as she gasped. She was pulling him down, back on top of her, and he was between her thighs now, his member pressed against her and she let out a moan, drawing him closer and closer. 

"We can't, can we?" They were going to be late for dinner, for the celebrations arranged, and someone would come looking. Nothing serious would happen, but Ella's reputation would be damaged if any foreign visitor heard even the whiff of a rumour from a servant and the pair were already frowned on. It wasn't that he didn't want her, God he wanted her, but they couldn't. They weren't married yet, they were to be married the following day. 

It was almost painful, to edge away from him and hand him the discarded breeches, using her chemise to cover up as much she could as he dressed. Ella wanted to beg him to stay, beg him to finish what they had started, but she didn't.

"I'm sorry for that." He apologised eventually, throwing her one last longing look as he opened the door to go. 

"Don't be." She smiled, moving the chemise slightly as she strained to hide herself behind it. "There'll be a lot more knots to untie in the future." That was a promise.


End file.
